


Future Days

by gryffindorJ



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Cross-Generation Relationship, Flirting, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:36:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4472585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindorJ/pseuds/gryffindorJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's been spending nights in the attic at Grimmauld Place wondering about the man his godfather had been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Future Days

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you gracerene for having this fest. Thank you beta for all your speedy help!

Harry was vaguely aware that his mouth felt very dry and sticky. It tasted rather like bad milk. He was well aware of the blunt headache forming behind his right eye. He had learned during his Auror physical that his right eye was stronger and than his left – he was quite myopic in both – and his right eye would compensate for his weaker left eye when he was very tired or hung-over, like he was right now. 

He pulled off his glasses by the bridge and pressed the heel of his hand to his right eye trying to rub the ache away. Replacing his glasses he blinked open his eyes. The room came into focus slowly and Harry realized he had fallen asleep in the attic, again. 

Luckily, this time he was on the moth eaten, green velvet chaise he had uncovered for just such an occasion. The chaise wasn't a bed but it was a far cry from the floor and a dusty old couch cushion. Harry didn't want to think how many times he had done that before he moved the chaise into a place where it was useable. 

The attic, of late, had a particular hold on Harry's attention. He was supposed to be spending his evenings studying for his next round of Auror exams, but revising had never been his strong suit, and it was especially difficult with no Hermione keeping him on task or Ron making him laugh. On the nights he had a beer, or six, to keep him company or tea laced with Firewhisky, he would find his mind wandering from his studies and his feet would tread the familiar path to the very top of the house. 

He had found Sirius's old school trunk placed squarely in the middle of the room the first time he had ever gone up there. He had initially assumed it was Regulus's but then he opened the dusty lid and found the master cylinder to a motorcycle right on top, he knew it belonged to his godfather. Harry had left it for a long while, feeling perhaps it was an invasion to Sirius's privacy. His curiosity eventually overcame that concern. Sirius had left him everything and with that, the freedom for Harry to find out what he would. 

Harry lolled his head to the side looking at the spot where the trunk had been. In its place was a fascinating clock that Harry had found a few nights ago. It had a large square base with two large cubes resting at the top. Nestled half-way in each base was a large, round face. One face was a clock and the other was Merlin knew what. Harry had seen old Muggle clocks that had a barometer with them but this one wasn't that. It had words and symbols Harry couldn't read and several hands. Protruding from the top of the clock were gears and weights of various kinds – so many that it looked as if it would have belonged in Dumbledore's office, not here in the attic. From this angle, Harry noticed that there was a large, iron key inserted into the side of the clock. Harry scrambled to the floor pulling the key from it. 

Harry paid attention to the clock for the first time last night when he was searching through the attic for relics of Sirius's. More photos were what he hoped to find. The few Harry had found thus far had entranced him. Harry looked at them again and again, desperately wishing there were more, and compensating for the lack by intently studying each one. He lost himself drinking up the sights of his godfather, his father, and their friends, all so young. 

A door slammed somewhere far below and Harry's head snapped up as if someone had fired a shot. He wasn't expecting anyone. It could be Ron. It wasn't unlike him to show up at anytime. He then heard shouting but it was two people, and neither of them was Ron.

Harry stood slowly, careful not to hit his head on the eaves, and crept quietly to the stairwell. The shouting grew louder, this time a higher voice he recognized all too well from a portrait he had removed ages ago – a voice he’d hoped never to hear again. Sirius's mum. Harry moved along the landing silently the voices growing louder and clearer. Harry tried desperately to think what he'd done last night and shook his head, not even sure if he was awake.

"Jesus Christ, Mum, it was an accident. I didn't mean to split open his head!" The voice was definitely that of a teenage boy with an accent that made even his curse sharp and clean, like cut glass. 

"...such words in my home? It’s those Mudbloods you're with every chance you get..." 

Harry looked at the key, heavy in his hand, and then over his shoulder at the clock still sitting on the floor. He rubbed his head. Shit. He was definitely awake and he knew what he'd done. 

"Leave off! All right, all right! I'll get Kreacher. He's probably in the attic, he'll clean up the blood."

Footsteps pounded closer and Harry could hear the shouts following them. He desperately wanted to wait, wanted to see Sirius come through the door. This couldn’t be real, but Harry couldn’t deny his own ears, and if what he was hearing was real, this would be his godfather; young, untouched by death, untouched by Azkaban, even as yet untouched by war. This would be the person from the photos. The person Harry had a deep desire to learn more about, to know. Young and carefree. 

Harry pressed himself against the wall, his heart pounding and his mind racing. If Sirius was still living at home, that meant he was less than six-teen. He was younger than Harry was now, and younger than the man Harry yearned to meet. 

From the footsteps, Sirius was almost there. Harry gripped the key hard enough that its teeth dug into his palm. With sudden decision Harry dashed up the stairs and slid across the floor on his knees. Harry knew with absolute clarity what he needed to do; jamming the key into the side of the clock he gave it a few vicious turns in the direction he prayed was opposite of last night's. 

The floor rushed up and the room spun around him at a pace that left him sick and shaking. He pressed his head to the floor, waiting for the rushing in his head to stop. He was quite certain the room was still, but didn't dare open his eyes to look. Not yet. 

Finally, when Harry felt his balance was restored, he sat up slowly, opening his eyes. The house was dead quiet. So quiet he could hear the tick of the grandfather clock floors below. 

"What next?" he muttered to himself. Time travel was supposedly dangerous. Harry had no idea when he was exactly, perhaps he'd been overly rash in the decision making. He had a hope when he'd be, but there was only one way to be certain. 

He felt in his pocket. Wand? Yes, he had his wand. He reached for the clock, grabbing the key and stuffing it in his other pocket for safe keeping. He stood from the the floor, and now he had a problem –no shoes. He looked around the attic, searching for the old wardrobe that had been there in his time. Luckily it was still there. 

Rifling through it, he found several pairs of very old shoes, but no trainers. Sirius's mum probably didn't allow Muggle clothes to even reach the doorstep. Harry grabbed a pair of brown leather and suede shoes that looked about his size. He stuffed his feet into them.They weren't perfect but he'd be able to walk in them, and that was enough. 

Where should he go now? What should he do next? Possibilities blossomed in Harry's mind as he took out his wand. First things first, he needed to get the hell out of Grimmauld Place. He wondered if Sirius's dad had made it impossible to Disapparate from the house. Surely not just anyone could pop in, but what about leaving? One way to find out. 

Diagon Alley. It was as good a place as any to start, Harry thought as he turned on the spot. 

The day was cold and rainy and Harry's first regret, once he Apparated onto the High Street, was only having a t-shirt and jeans on. He should've taken a cloak from the wardrobe too, but his memory of the clothes from Grimmauld Place were that they were very out of date. He would be conspicuous in any item he found there. 

Looking around at some of the shoppers passing by, perhaps not as out of date as he had thought. While most of the cloaks were modest, dark colours, some of the robes were colours and styles Harry only associated with Ron's first set of dress robes. Harry couldn't help but grin as he headed to Gringotts'. He wouldn't freeze and perhaps he could be James Potter long enough to get into his family vault. Maybe he had his key on him somewhere. 

__----__

Walking around Diagon Alley was completely distracting. Yes, it was always a fascinating place to Harry, but seeing it in this time, with the sometimes subtle changes and sometimes drastic ones, he found himself staring about like he did when he was eleven. What distracted Harry the most were the shops that had been in Diagon Alley before the war, his war. Upon seeing Fortescue's he had bounded inside, desperate for a sundae. Inside the shop, the sight of the kind man he once knew behind the counter and the scent of fresh ice cream cones had Harry running from the shop as quickly as he had come in, a lump in his throat. . 

The weather had turned worse. Harry pulled the collar of his new cloak tight around him and ducked his head against the wind-driven rain. 

"Hey, watch it!" 

"Sorry I –" Harry stammered, stepping back from the man he had run into, and his voice caught in his throat. 

"It's you," Mundungus said with a smile. "Didn't recognize you with your face in your cloak, did I?" 

"Why would you –" 

"Just had one with your mate in the Leaky. Wife let you out of the house long enough for a pint?" 

"Yeah," Harry said, grateful for the splatter of rain on his lenses obscuring his eyes. He’d managed to slip past the goblins as James. Surely Dung would be no problem. 

"While you're here, I wanted to talk –" Mundungus said, reaching into his cloak. 

"Sorry, Dung," Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Gotta get that pint in while I can. Next time," Harry called as he dashed across the road, not about to let an easily-found Sirius slide through his grip. 

Harry entered through the back door of the pub, breathless with excitement. He pulled off his glasses, cleaning them before jamming them back on his face. He didn't know what he would say to Sirius but he had a minute to think about it. A trip to the loo to see what he could do with himself was in order first. Mundungnus, Sirius was not. He was James's best mate. It would never be a good idea to go around impersonating someone to Sirius. In the atmosphere of the war, it could be deadly. 

Harry was better than he used to be at human Transfiguration. He’d go for different, but still retaining a bit of himself. He shoved the lock on the door before turning to look into the water stained mirror. He'd start with his hair-- the most obvious give-away -- if everything he had seen and been told were true. He pointed his wand at it and slowly changed the colour to a light brown, almost dark blond. He then moved his wand in a complicated pattern, taming the cow-licks as well as he could. He looked in the mirror. Not his best job but it would do. 

He vanished his lightening scar completely. That was the first thing he had learned to do in Concealment and Disguise. He looked at his nose, long and straight like his dad's. He shortened it a bit and added a small bump at the bridge like the one Charlie Weasley had after taking a bludger to it. Thinking of a Weasley, Harry added a smattering of freckles to his nose and cheeks, as if he'd just spent a nice holiday in the sun. He considered modifying his voice but as he hadn't been raised in Godric's Hollow like his father, his accent was sufficiently different not to draw attention. 

Looking at his reflection one last time before he left the loo, Harry thought the effect was not bad overall. Similar to a Potter in looks, perhaps, but not exactly. 

The pub seemed crowded for a weekday afternoon. Harry scanned the crowd and spotted, at the far side of the bar, the dark sleek hair and unmistakable laugh of Sirius's. For a moment, his heart stopped. This was not his Sirius. This wasn't the exact Sirius from the photos. This was the Sirius from The Forest. 

A Muggle would say it was like seeing a ghost. Harry saw ghosts all the time and that wasn’t it. Time and space were suddenly nothing and Harry had moved through the veils that guarded it. His heart stopped and at the same time his body began to thrum and shake with adrenaline. 

How was he going to do this? The scent of ice-cream cones had made him sick, and somehow talking to his godfather would be easier? This was his chance and it very well could be his only one. Gathering the insane, thoughtless courage that had served him in the past, Harry strode over to the bar and to the open seat next to Sirius's. 

He signaled to the bartender for a pint before taking his seat on the stool. Sirius's back was to him as he chatted with an older wizard Harry didn't recognize. Harry gripped his drink tightly to keep his hands from shaking and took a slow sip, wondering how to start a conversation. 

A group of young witches came giggling and staggering past the bar, one knocking roughly into Sirius and sending him backwards into Harry, whose drink spilled everywhere. 

"Merlin, take a sobering draught," Sirius said, pulling the girl away from him and placing her squarely on her feet. 

Sirius turned to Harry, who was doing his best to mop up the mess with his pathetic napkin. "Sorry, about that. Here, Tom will get you another," Sirius said, motioning to the bartender. 

"It's fine," Harry said, taking out his wand and doing the job the napkin would not. 

"Bunch of drunk bints." 

"I think maybe they wanted your attention," Harry said, looking at Sirius's very striking face. 

"They all do," Sirius said. Harry laughed and he realized he felt calm now, in control. Sirius smiled and held out his hand. "I'm Sirius by the way." 

"I'm...er...Harry." It was a common enough name there was no reason he couldn't use it. Harry took Sirius's hand and shook it. 

"Harry. You sure that's your name?" Sirius grinned in a cheeky way that Harry rather liked even though it made him feel suddenly warm. Despite looking more or less the same in the old photos, they did not truly do Sirius justice. Sirius held something in his expression, in his eyes, in the way he carried himself that pulled Harry in. 

"I'm sure." Harry smiled in return and removed his hand from Sirius's. He missed the firm, warm touch immediately. 

"We met before? You look familiar." Sirius's brow wrinkled as he looked Harry up and down. "You went to Hogwarts?" 

"No, my family...you don't want to hear the story it's long and boring," Harry said with a half smile. Harry was much better at evading the truth than he once was, thank you very much Auror training. It was better to omit or evade to get out of sticky situation, and stay as close to the truth as possible. He couldn't tell the truth, but he didn't want the whole thing to feel false either. Lying while undercover was different than lying to Sirius. 

"I understand that about families." 

"Luckily I wound up a decent enough wizard." 

Sirius chuckled quietly, "Did you now?" 

Clearly Sirius didn't mind bravado, so Harry stuck with it. "I've never heard anyone say otherwise, and I'd have reason to know." 

Sirius's eyes twinkled as he turned more towards Harry and signaled to Tom for a refill of his own drink. 

"You went to Hogwarts then? You can't have been out of school that long. Or did you skive off today?" Harry said. 

"That's funny, you look younger than me. Maybe you're skiving off?" 

"I wouldn't be too bright to skip school and hide out in the Leaky Cauldron of all places. Muggle pub would be a much better hiding spot." 

"That sounds exactly like something I did once." 

"Only once?" Harry raised his brows. 

"I do most things at least once but that, I lost track of how many times I did that. Twelve NEWTs, by the way, because I know you want to make sure I'm clever enough." Sirius carelessly brushed his dark smooth hair away from his brow. 

"Cocky enough as well, aren't you?" Harry took a long drink of his beer, not looking away from Sirius. 

"One of my finer qualities," Sirius replied easily.

Harry's stomach suddenly gave a loud grumble. "Sorry. Haven't had a bite all day," Harry said quickly. 

"Lets order something," Sirius suggested. Harry raised his hand to wave over the bartender but Sirius put a reassuring hand on his knee. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it." 

Harry couldn't help but stare at Sirius's large, long fingered hand softly squeezing his leg as Sirius ordered. Harry had no idea, didn't even care, what Sirius's ordered. Talking to Sirius, laughing with Sirius, had been one thing but the touch, even a casual one, was something else. A feeling that he’d had before, a very long time ago, rose up in Harry. He had told himself at the time it was simple affection. He wanted to be close to his godfather. That was it. The feeling moved deep inside him and stirred other feelings and desires that Harry – given his experience now – recognized very clearly. 

Harry grabbed his glass and drained it in three huge gulps. The bartender moved to pour him another and he said, "No. Firewhisky, neat." He definitely felt he needed something stronger at the moment. 

"If that's the case then..." Sirius said with a smile, "Tom, I'll have a gin and tonic." 

Something in the far corner of the pub caught Sirius's eye and he turned his head casually to look at it. "Mind if I move here?" Sirius said, turning back to Harry and moving behind him to sit on Harry's other side. 

"As long as that's as far as you go," Harry said. He was rather shocked at himself, but the look on Sirius’s face made him pleased with himself as well.

"I've got no other plans," Sirius said and he took a sip of his freshly served drink. His eyes moved once more to the area of the pub where he had looked before his gaze slid easily back to Harry's face. 

His gestures and manners were smooth, easy, but Harry saw them for what they were. Sirius was at the Leaky Cauldron because he was watching someone. A hot plate of bangers and mash arrived in the next moment and Harry's stomach gurgled once again. Reaching for his fork and knife, he glanced covertly at the spot where Sirius had been looking. He felt a small shock go through him. Azkaban had certainly done Rabastan Lestrange no favours but he was still horribly ugly now. 

"What's funny?" Sirius asked, taking a bite of Harry's food without invitation. 

"Nothing," Harry said, cutting up a sausage. "I hadn't realized you were following someone." 

"Who exactly am I following?" Sirius said, taking another bite. Harry had to appreciate the response. Clearly he wasn't the only one who knew how to evade a direct question properly. 

Harry let the question hang while he chewed and swallowed a large bite. "Bloke in the corner, navy blue cloak. Fourteen, maybe fifteen stone. More warts on his face than a crone," Harry said while he pushed a bit of sausage through some potatoes. 

Sirius gave a great shudder and said, "He's definitely not my type." 

Harry smiled slightly and said, "Who is your type?" 

The looked at each other for a very long second. Sirius's eyes flashed, his lips pouted slightly as he studied Harry's face. Harry did his best to be expressionless but he couldn't help but feel his eyes were giving away his own answer to the question. Sirius reached for his gin and tonic and took a very long drink. The ice clanked in the glass as he set it back on the bar. "You better hurry up with your Firewhisky. I'm almost one ahead of you," Sirius said, gesturing with his chin at Harry's untouched drink. 

Harry took an obligatory sip and went back to his food, leaving the smirk on his face. 

"You know the time, Harry?" Sirius asked after he took another bite of what was now their food. 

Harry looked at his wrist and noticed for the first time his watch had stopped working. "Sorry," Harry said, wrinkling his brow in surprise. Sirius grabbed his wrist and looked at his watch. 

"I've seen one just like this before," he said. 

"It's standard wizarding. Not bad, when it actually works," Harry said casually. He didn't know if he was more surprised at what Sirius's touch was doing to him or that he'd forgotten Sirius had known, did know, Mrs Weasley's brother. 

"There's a place in Diagon Alley you can get it fixed," Sirius said, loosening his grip but not removing his hand. 

"Where's your watch?" 

"At this place in Diagon Alley getting fixed," Sirius said. "Apparently you're not supposed to block curses with a watch." 

"You blocked a curse with your watch? On purpose?" Harry's tone was thick with doubt. 

Sirius replied with a confident glint in his eyes, "Would you find me more impressive if I said I did?" 

"I'd find you to be a bit of an arse," Harry said with a laugh. 

"Only a bit? Might be worth it if it's only a bit." They looked at each other and both chuckled. "No," Sirius said, still laughing. "Lucky shot. Hit my wrist at just the right spot. Watched stayed together but burned the hell out of my arm underneath." He showed Harry his wrist. A faint burn mark showed all the way around. 

"Not a bad job healing that," Harry said as he touched it lightly. "I've got one on my arm not quite a burn but it looks like it. It doesn't look so nice." 

"Is that what we're doing now? Comparing scars? I'll have to take you to the back if this goes on further." Sirius looked Harry up and down and Harry could feel Sirius’s desire to to take him to the back and see every inch of him. 

Harry's entire body was burning. He met Sirius's eyes; he didn't think it was such a bad idea either. His cock certainly agreed. He was about to say as much when Sirius's gaze left him and flicked back to Lestrange. 

Harry coughed and grabbed his drink taking a large gulp, which only made him cough more. 

"Maybe," Harry said, clearing his throat. "We should wait till your finished. I don't want to interrupt anything important." 

"Damn bugger isn't doing anything," Sirius said softly, narrowing his eyes at Lestrange. "If you weren't here this would be so damn dull, I would've left ages ago." 

"Maybe that's what he's hoping you'll do," Harry pointed out. 

Sirius's focus slid back to Harry and he asked, "You an Auror, Harry? You seem to know what you're doing." 

Harry shrugged. "Not yet, but I could be if I wanted." 

"You seem smarter than most of the Aurors I've met. It's a shame you’re not." 

Harry smiled to himself at the praise and at Sirius’s arrogance. Sirius would think most people idiots save for himself. "It's a shame you’re not," Harry said. 

"Ah well," Sirius said, taking a drink from his fresh gin and tonic. "All my talents would be waisted in that department. So much more I can give the world." 

Their eyes met again and the frisson of desire once again coursed through Harry. He could see it reflected in Sirius's eyes as they darkened. Harry turned and looked over his shoulder casually, to see a fresh round of drinks being brought to Lestrange's table. 

"Fuck this," Sirius grumbled. "Lets go somewhere." 

"Where?" Harry asked, turning back to Sirius. 

"Anywhere. I've got my motorcycle here. Fancy a ride?" 

"Yes!" Harry said, his excitement at seeing Sirius on his bike overriding any sense of trying to play it cool. 

Sirius laughed and said, "Come on then." He waved a hand to Tom as he touched Harry lightly on the elbow. 

Sirius didn't give Lestrange a second glance as they headed to the front door. Harry did, though. 

"You...er...sure about leaving?" Harry asked. 

Sirius snorted. "Watching him is boring as hell. You're much more entertaining." 

Harry still hesitated, worried he had somehow altered time, and was now messing up the war completely. What if Sirius was supposed to stay here and follow Lestrange after he left? Until now Harry hadn't considered the possible consequences. 

Sirius pushed open the door as he turned to Harry. The rain had cleared. The last light from the setting sun cut across Sirius's face, illuminating his the impish grin. Young, devilish, care-free, Harry thought. Yes. This was the Sirius he had ached to see. Harry stopped hesitating and followed him. 

Sirius bike was parked on the pavement only a few steps from the door. It looked much the same as when Harry had ridden it, leaving Privet Drive – minus the sidecar. 

Sirius straddled the bike and it was as if his touch brought it to life. It roared and thrummed, filling the street and Harry's chest with the rumble of the engine. Sirius walked the bike slowly to the street and looked over at Harry, raising his brows. 

There was no need to ask twice; Harry strode over to him and slung his leg over the saddle. 

"Hold tight!" Sirius yelled at him over the rumble. 

Harry had barely started to comply and they were off like a shot. They sped down the streets, weaving in and out of cars and through traffic lights, water flying like a rooster's tail out behind them. 

The only speeds Sirius knew were fast and faster. Harry slipped his arms under Sirius's arms and held tight to his chest. Sirius's hair whipped out behind him, soft as a feather's touch on Harry's face. Harry closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, letting the scents of rain, petrol, Sirius's hair, and tobacco smoke settle around him. 

They sped through a large dip in the road, making them bounce repeatedly with the impact. Harry pressed himself firmly to Sirius to stay on the seat. He felt Sirius laugh. They turned sharply down a small street and suddenly popped out onto Oxford Street. It was loud with the sounds of cars and busses, illuminated by so many lights. Harry's eyes, watering already from the wind, felt assaulted. 

"Want to fly?" Sirius yelled over his shoulder. 

"Huh? Here?" Harry yelled back. 

They arrived at a traffic circle, Sirius giving it as much attention as he did to the traffic lights. He drove straight through the middle of it. Harry's heart pounded as what seemed like hundreds of cars circled around them. Sirius cut through them as if the motorbike was a hot knife going through butter. 

"Lets fly!" Sirius yelled again before turning down a dark ally. By Sirius's thought alone the motorcycle rose smoothly into the air. Hagrid had used knobs to get the bike to rise into the air, and as far Mr Weasley could tell, that was the only way to activate the magic. The motorcycle was different with Sirius. Harry laughed to himself – of course it would be different with Sirius. It was clearly an extension of his being and _belonged_ to him in a way it never could to anyone else. 

Despite the journey being much less heart stopping in the air, Harry stayed pressed close to Sirius. He felt Sirius settle back against him, pressing every inch of Harry’s body to him that he could. The engine continued to rumble beneath them and Harry could feel it traveling up his legs and settling in his balls. Already half-hard from the adventure of the drive, Harry's cock stiffened fully at this, Sirius's arse pressing to him also being a factor. 

Sirius squirmed and adjusted on the seat, spreading his legs wider. Harry looked over Sirius’s shoulder and down the plain of his chest and stomach to where a bulge pushed proudly against the flies of his jeans. Harry ghosted a hand down Sirius and across the front of his trousers.

"We should stop somewhere," Harry said in his ear. He ground his hips against Sirius, as if he didn't very well know already that Harry was hard. 

"Why stop?" Sirius said, rolling his hips as well as he could while clamping 180 kilos of magical steel between his thighs. 

"Don't want to crash," Harry said, flicking his tongue against Sirius's ear. 

"I promise not to crash, even when you come." 

Harry rolled into Sirius, the friction against his cock making him groan. He wrapped one arm around Sirius's chest and slid the other hand through Sirius's thick hair. He kissed and nibbled across Sirius's heated skin, tasting the salt of it, as he pushed harder and faster. He saw the ocean in the distance and white cliffs before he closed his eyes, pushing hard and crying out as he pulsed and came in his pants. 

Harry pressed his cheek to the middle of Sirius's back panting as he slowly came back to himself. They began to descend slowly, the air growing warmer as they did. Harry opened his eyes and watched as Sirius landed them in an open field. As soon as the rumble of the engine ceased Harry could hear the crash of waves far below them. 

Harry slid off the bike, head still feeling light and legs a bit shaky. He rolled his shoulders and took a slow breath, trying to come back down to earth. Taking out his wand, he cleaned himself up, feeling self-conscious about his come-stained pants. He turned to look over his shoulder and saw Sirius leaning casually against his motorcycle, arms crossed, watching him. 

Christ, he was young. In Harry's mind Sirius was a man, and despite how long he had studied the photographs, Harry still pictured that man. There was something about how he held his body that struck Harry as impossibly youthful. Was Sirius maybe nervous? Harry couldn't imagine it. 

And yet, there was something about it that touched Harry. He hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected to go back in time and rub off on his godfather's arse either, but Sirius being vulnerable was something else completely. 

He stood straight from his bike and his swagger was back. Harry smiled at the loss despite himself -- Sirius's confidence a reassurance of the man Harry loved. 

Harry took two steps toward Sirius, allowing Sirius to close the gap, and then their bodies were pressed together once more. Arms wrapped around each other, hands touching and groping, eliciting moans of pleasure as their mouths met. 

Sirius's lips were soft against Harry, not controlling the kiss but encouraging Harry's lips to join with his. His tongue slid between Harry's lips, brushing against Harry's. Harry groaned and gripped Sirius's head, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him in closer, kissing him harder. 

Sirius's hands went to Harry's cloak, unfastening it and pushing it from his shoulders. His touch skated across Harry's chest, thumbs brushing briefly to Harry's nipples. Their kiss broke and they began to undress each other quickly. Harry yanked his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, and Sirius's eyes stopped as they saw the scars on his chest. Without permission, not that he needed it, he reached out and ran the pads of his fingers across the oval shape. His eyes darted to the puncture mark on Harry's arm and his fingers followed. 

"Merlin," Sirius said, "What the hell happened to you?" 

"War," Harry said simply. 

Their eyes met and, even in the darkness, Harry could see the understanding in Sirius’s eyes. Their mouths came together again and Sirius pulled Harry down to the damp grass.

They held each other as their lips, tongues, and teeth searched each other's skin. Sirius's hips bucked against Harry's thigh, wanting more. 

Harry stood on his knees unfastening and removing his own trousers and Sirius squirmed out of his. Harry looked at Sirius's beautiful erect cock. He wanted to rub against it, he wanted to suck it, he wanted it in his hand, in his arse. 

Harry kneed Sirius's thigh, pushing him onto his back as he rolled on top of him. He straddled Sirius leaning down to kiss him. Harry craved to give Sirius everything he could, ached to give him the love and devotion Sirius had given him, would give him. 

Reaching behind him, Harry stroked Sirius's cock long and slow. Sirius groaned into Harry's mouth, thrust into his hand. 

"God," Sirius moaned softly as he gripped Harry's arse in his hands. "Anyone ever told you you've a brilliant arse?" He asked as he stroked his finger tips in the crease. Harry's skin prickled with a rush of sensation and his cock stiffened almost at once. 

"No. This is a first," Harry replied. 

"I didn't say that I thought you had a brilliant arse." Sirius smirked, but now he wasn't only gripping Harry's arse. He was insistently grinding against it. 

Harry leaned down, resting one arm above Sirius's head. He looked into Sirius' eyes and whispered, "Now's your chance to tell me, because once I start fucking you, I suspect words will escape you completely." 

Harry didn't wait for a reply. He moved back down Sirius's body, reaching for his cock and pressing it to his entrance. 

As the head of Sirius's dick breached Harry, he groaned deep in his chest. It stretched and burned in all the right ways. “Balls deep” was the only thing Harry could think at the moment. He pushed himself down hard all the way on Sirius's cock. He wanted to be able to feel this for years. 

Sirius's back bowed and his head arched back, the crown of his head pressing in the grass, his long throat exposed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he said, "Merlin, you've a brilliant arse." 

Harry rocked his hips slowly and said, "No one’s ever told me that." 

A puff of laughter escaped both their lips, but it was fleeting, they were more intent on other things. Sirius's hands slid to Harry's thighs, pressing into them. He met each roll of Harry’s hips with his own. Harry felt himself spread open with each push. He wanted to roll onto his hands and knees and let Sirius pound into him, but he wanted to watch Sirius more. He wanted Sirius to watch him. Sirius's eyes were closed and Harry watched him, waiting for them to open. 

Once Sirius’s eyes did open, it was by the smallest slit. Harry would take what he could get. He brought his hand to his mouth. Starting at the tip of his middle finger, he licked a path all the way down his hand. He swirled his tongue in his palm, looking intently at Sirius, whose eyes were wide open now. Harry wrapped his slicked hand around his aching cock and began to stroke. 

Throwing his head back, he gave into the sensation riding Sirius hard and pushing into his hand – grateful he'd already come once or he'd be far gone. He panted as he rocked and rocked. "Fuck," he groaned. Sirius's cock was big, hard, and hot in him. It could easily make him fall apart. 

Sirius snapped his hips sharply once, twice, making Harry's eyes fly open. "Jesus!" Harry cried out, enjoying the pain of it. 

Sirius slid his hands up Harry's chest, thumbs coasting across Harry's nipples. The sensation made Harry's movements stutter. "God, love that," Harry murmured. 

"God, I love how you fuck," Sirius said. 

Harry moved his his hand from his cock and reached behind him, touching Sirius's slick cock every time it slid out of him. 

Sirius's gaze went to Harry's cock which bobbed against his stomach. He bit his lower lip, traced his tongue along it, and said, "I want to suck you." 

"Yes," Harry said, imagining Sirius's full lips encasing his cock. "Come down your throat." 

"On my face," Sirius replied, his eyes glinting. "Next time though." 

Harry’s heart leapt. He wanted next time. And the time after that. And after that. 

Harry leaned back, changing the angle of Sirius's dick in him. He twined his fingers in the cool grass to hold himself in place and cupped Sirius's bollocks with his other hand. 

"God, I'm going to come," Sirius said, his voice deep and his hips moving faster. 

"Yes, fill me," Harry said. Sirius pushed on his heels driving into Harry. "I like it hard, yes!" Harry cried out. 

Sirius reached for Harry's cock and stroked it firmly. 

"Yes! Like that," Harry gasped, eyes closed tight. He rode hard and as fast as he could, aching for Sirius to tear him apart, fuck him all night. 

"Oh fuck!" Sirius cried out and as his heat burst into Harry, Harry couldn't hold off anymore. He called out as his cock pulsed again and again in Sirius's hand. The visions of Sirius's hand shaking his, gripping Harry's thigh, smoothly guiding the motorcycle shot through his mind. Large, firm and strong. He made himself open his eyes and watch Sirius's hand stroke every last drop from him. He wanted it seared into his memory. 

Harry slid himself off Sirius's cock and crawled down his body, mouthing his balls and then pulling his still firm cock into his mouth. 

"Oh, God I've change my mind," Sirius said, his voice thick and slow, gripping Harry's hair. 

"Changed your mind about what?" Harry said, looking up from Sirius's dick. 

"Can't trust you," Sirius moaned as Harry pulled back his foreskin and licked the crown of Sirius's softening cock. "I think you're going to kill me." Sirius threw one arm over his head, covering his eyes. "Hell of a way to go though." 

Harry laughed softly and he lay next to Sirius. The coolness of the grass was welcome on his heated, still shaking, body. He felt raw and open, just what he’d wanted 

Sirius nudged him several minutes later. Harry opened his eyes to see the proffered cigarette. Harry didn't smoke, didn't like it, but he needed it now – something to calm his nerves. His fingers slid against Sirius's as he passed him the fag. Sirius licked his lips at the slow touch. Despite the lazy bliss he exuded, the desire and promise of what more he could do sparked across his face. 

Harry took a slow, shallow drag of the cigarette, certain he would cough ridiculously if he attempted more. 

He passed it back to Sirius, who took it casually, and said, "That was better than I thought it'd be." 

Harry laughed, propping himself up on his elbow. "That's a compliment?" 

"I knew it'd be good but well...you were there. You know how it was." 

"I'm not likely to ever forget," Harry said, wanting to reach out and cradle Sirius against him and never move from this spot.

Harry touched Sirius's jaw, hesitantly at first. Sirius seemed not to mind leaning into Harry’s hand, encouraging the touch, so Harry continued stroking his hand across the slope of his shoulder down to his chest. Harry drank up the sight of him. Committing the feel of his skin, the tickle of his hair on his palm, the freckle-marked shoulders, the casual drowsy look of his eyes, all to his memory. Harry's hand went down to his stomach, his waist, brushing over the fine trail of black hair, sparking a memory from years ago – years from now... He could see a flash of Sirius's skin as he pulled on a jumper when Harry had pushed open his bedroom door. Sirius's head had popped out of the top, his hair falling in perfect order and smile on his face. Harry hadn’t been able to look away from the spot where he had just seen Sirius's midriff, the trail of hair black and tantalizing. Harry's fingertips had tingled to touch it then. Harry ran his finger across the soft hair, Sirius’s stomach warm beneath his fingertip. 

A light flashed in a copse of trees, over to their right, cutting across Harry's vision. They both turned towards it and silently it came cantering out of the trees. For half a moment Harry wondered how he’d conjured that – he hadn't even touched his wand. 

Sirius said, "Someone's looking for me." 

"Someone? Or you know who’s looking for you?" Harry said, watching the imposing grace of the stag Patronus. 

"I know," Sirius said sitting up. He reached for his shirt and jacket and pulled them on. He handed Harry his shirt and cloak. Then he tucked his knees against his chest and rested his chin there, not looking in any hurry to go. 

"So who is it?" Harry asked, trying to sound completely at ease. He was both desperately eager and desperately scared to hear more about his father. "Not your girlfriend I hope? Oh, god, not your wife?" 

Sirius chuckled and said, "Christ, no. It's my best mate. More like my family though." 

"Your family didn't cut it?" 

"Hardly," Sirius said contemptuously and flicked his cigarette away. "James makes up for it. All my friends, actually. They're it. They're what I have. All I love." 

Harry flexed his hands, itching to touch Sirius and reassure him that he knew, and completely understood, everything. Sirius’s focus was on watching the Patornus disappear. 

Sirius shook himself and turned to Harry with a grin. "This is a bit too much of a post-shag discussion." 

"I don't mind," Harry replied. 

"I do." 

Something closed in Sirius’s expression – the vulnerability and openness gone – forbidding this Harry, the stranger, to pass. Sirius had never looked at him in this way. An ache rose up in Harry's chest, threatening to burst from him. 

"There's no one else then?" Harry asked, wondering that he could speak at all. 

"For this?" Sirius said with a suggestive look, then he shrugged. "No. Not really. Maybe once upon a time. Nothing now. You?" 

"There's no one else for this," Harry said. Their words were the same, but the meaning was worlds apart. 

"Well..." Sirius said, reaching for his trousers. "I’d better get on to the missus or he'll be put out." He stood, pulling his trousers on as he did. Harry watched his perfect arse disappear in a slide of denim. 

Sirius grabbed Harry's trousers and shoes and handed them to him. 

"Hey!" he said holding one of the shoes in his hand. "I've seen shoes exactly like these before. Where'd you get them?" 

"Second-hand shop," Harry replied. 

"I think you're wearing my old shoes. My parents used to put me in those ridiculous sort of things." He put the shoes on the ground so Harry could step into them. 

"Did you wear shirts with lace and cravats?” Harry said, doing up his flies. 

"Do I look like I wear lace?" 

"Maybe?" Harry said, trying not to smile. He looked Sirius up and down. He had perfected his rebel image, from the leather boots to the torn jeans, tight shirt and jacket. "I'd like to see it if you would." 

"Another time," Sirius said. "Can I drop you somewhere before I go or do you by chance live in Kent?" 

Harry understood it was over – the flirting, the fucking, the everything. His time with Harry was done and Sirius was moving on. Harry wanted to grab him. He wanted to tell him who he was, risk it for more time together. The casual way Sirius looked at him cut so deep, he couldn't move. He had wanted his godfather, had his godfather, and now it felt like it hadn’t happened at all. They were strangers. 

"I'm good," Harry said, his voice shaking despite himself. "I can Apparate somewhere." 

"Sorry. I’ve got to go. I really don't want to be late," Sirius said, and he moved past Harry to his bike. "James is bad enough. Remus and Peter will be on my arse next thing I know." 

The names, all heard grouped together like that startled Harry out of his pain. James, Remus, Peter; that was who Sirius loved. Suddenly Harry forgot about losing Sirius all over again and wondered if Sirius had ever been loved completely? He had his friends, his chosen family, but had sex and love ever been one for him? 

"Hey!" Harry called turning around. Sirius paused and looked over his shoulder. Harry grabbed him and pulled him to his chest. Harry kissed him hard, holding his face in his hands, allowing everything to flow out of him. The ache of Sirius's death, the ache of the love Harry once had, once knew, and still retained. He gave and gave as much as he could with this press of lips and slide of tongue. He wanted to Sirius to walk away feeling all Harry did. 

Space and time were suspended as they held each other there on the grassy cliff-top in Kent.

The kiss broke slowly, leaving them both with their breath short. Harry held Sirius's face as Sirius pressed his hands to the small of Harry's back. 

"I'm going to see you again, aren't I?" Sirius said, looking shrewdly at Harry. 

"Yes," Harry said. "I think it'll be awhile before you do, though." 

"I hate waiting," Sirius said with a wince. "For anything." 

"I can tell that about you," Harry replied as they released each other. 

Sirius smiled his smug smile and, with one last squeeze of Harry's hand, moved to his bike. "I'll do my best to make it worth your while," Sirius said, sitting astride his bike. 

"I've no doubt," Harry said. The bike roared to life and the headlight blazed across the grass where they’d been entangled minutes ago. Not wanting to watch Sirius leave his life again, Harry took out his wand and turned on the spot, landing on a cold wet street somewhere deep in the heart of London. The journey home seemed close at hand and the future days gone and far behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please show your appreciation for the author here, or on [LIVEJOURNAL](http://hp-crossgenfest.livejournal.com/20032.html)! ♥


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